Finding Adventure and Community in Nicaragua: A Spring Break Journey of Acro Yoga, Couchsurfing, and WorkAway, 2016
Day 1, March 25
I arrived at mid-night feeling somewhat confident and secure, while somewhat nervous and unsure. When I picked up my luggage and headed to the exit I was relieved to see a man that resembled the pictures I saw on Couchsurfing. He greeted me and helped me place my luggage into the taxi. We soon stopped at a gas station to pick up some snacks and drinks and I was alone in the taxi, coming face to face with my mediocre Spanish skills conversing with the driver. When Anthony, my host, returned we began to drive down many unfamiliar roads that contained homes reminding me of townships in South Africa. When we arrived at his home, I saw a large gate blocking his property and I had no idea what to expect behind it. I paid the driver and walked through the dark with Anthony as he guided me and gave me a shadowed tour of the home and property. I didn't know what I was seeing until he showed me the building in which I would be sleeping. It had a tv and two mattresses low to the ground, with a private bathroom. It felt comfortable and cozy, and he allowed me to have it all to myself. The main home, just walking distance away, had a bedroom for his family's help, who was out of town that night. He chose to sleep there to give me privacy. Before falling asleep, he introduced me to Nicaragua's Tona beer, we talked and watched the stars and the moon, ending the night with therapeutic acro yoga.
Day 2, March 26
I woke up in the morning to the Nicaraguan heat, the call of roosters and the pitter-patter of iguanas on the roof. I met with Anthony in the courtyard and saw the beauty of his property; with the well-groomed plush grass and the perfectly placed stepping stones and stone benches. He invited me into the main home where he offered me a traditional Nicaraguan breakfast that his mother had prepared a few days in advance using banana leaves, rice, beans, and spices. After enjoying our breakfast by the kitchen, we discussed taking a bus into town to tour his homeland. We explored the open market, I exchanged my money with a stranger on the street, saw iguanas for sale in the meat section and being cooked in soup, while stray dogs ran through the market like it was a maze. We took another bus to an open, outdoor museum of historic building replicas of Managua, some still remaining and some having been destroyed. We headed to a park called Puerto Salvador Allende and decided to do some acro yoga. We quickly drew a crowd. I think the locals thought we were street performers. When they pulled out their phones and cameras, I was tempted to ask them to send me their recordings. We wanted our final excursion to be at the local volcano, Volcan Masaya. We took the bus out of town to see the volcano but it was closed due to the volcano's live activity. Our final destination was the local mall. When I arrived in the afternoon I was able to finally pick up wifi. That is when I learned that my mother had been trying to contact me all day. She was worried about my arrival in Nicaragua and why I had not yet left to my volunteer site. I guess I had gotten so caught up with the vibrant local culture that I had forgotten to check in with my roots. We cleared things up and I quickly got on my way to my service sight, despite the fun I was having with my incredible host. He and I took a tuk-tuk to the local bus stop that would take me to the city of the site of my service. The last time I had taken a tuk-tuk was in Guatemala with my best friend Jianna, who had later named her kitten "Tuki" after the experience. I entered the van-bus with all of the belongings I had been carrying on my back. The fuller the van got, the more nervous I became of my valuables being out of sight in the trunk. I sat on a seat in the middle with my small daypack on the front of my belly. I stared out the windows admiring the views as we passed and I couldn't help but smile at the strangers around me. I was so happy to be in the moment that I forgot how foreign I had appeared in the situation. No one knows where anyone else was traveling but what I can be sure of is that it's was not the first time or the last time for anyone other than me. We all fall into the same pit of auto-pilot in our day to day lives, and this phenomenon is more commonly observed by a foreigner, or, as I've observed as a Couchsurfing host, a local in the presence of foreigners. I took the bus into the dark and landed at a gas station after, in a somewhat panicky way, with my broken Spanish, asking the van attendant to please remind me of my stop since I didn't have a clue where I was going. The gas station was a magical wifi hotspot and had open outlets for my phone charger. I was able to contact the owner and manager of the farm for which I was planning to volunteer. For moments, I looked around the station and, after every older looking man arrived, I wondered if he was the man I was looking for. Luckily, my man was driving a truck that had the name of the farm plastered on it when he pulled in to get gas. I came out to introduce myself and load my backpack. At this point, it was so dark outside he could've taken me anywhere and I wouldn't have known it was not the farm in the pictures. The road was a very long, dark, dirt path until I saw fences, horses, and cows. We stopped at a local supermarket before entering the farm and I didn't feel the need to buy anything quite yet. I had not yet known that I wouldn't have access to the supermarket for the next few days. I arrived at the farm and met a French volunteer who guided me to our volunteer quarters and bunk beds. I could not see her, nor the unlit path we were walking on. I had no idea where I was going. I was happy to feel a bed in front of me and I threw my bags to the ground and collapsed on the top bunk.
Day 3, March 27: Easter Sunday
A few farm strays: Blanky, a white, Shepard dog, and Pinto, another Shepard dog but tied to a stake for "bad behavior".
For more information about the Backyard Hostel Click here (Backyard Hostel)
I arrived to the airport fairly late but joined the long check-in line with another backpacker. We both were surprised by the length of the line and were afraid we'd miss our flight. I didn't even notice his accent at first, but when the attendants asked for his passport I realized he was South African. I should've known immediately but after living in South Africa for a year, hearing his accent felt so normal it was almost as if I was speaking to an American. We clicked from the start and were even able to sit together on the plane and talk about our week-long solo trips to Nicaragua. The entire experience was filled with so much love as I connected with so many remarkable people that I know I may never see again.
"There are two ways to live; One as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as if everything is."- Albert Einstein.
I arrived at mid-night feeling somewhat confident and secure, while somewhat nervous and unsure. When I picked up my luggage and headed to the exit I was relieved to see a man that resembled the pictures I saw on Couchsurfing. He greeted me and helped me place my luggage into the taxi. We soon stopped at a gas station to pick up some snacks and drinks and I was alone in the taxi, coming face to face with my mediocre Spanish skills conversing with the driver. When Anthony, my host, returned we began to drive down many unfamiliar roads that contained homes reminding me of townships in South Africa. When we arrived at his home, I saw a large gate blocking his property and I had no idea what to expect behind it. I paid the driver and walked through the dark with Anthony as he guided me and gave me a shadowed tour of the home and property. I didn't know what I was seeing until he showed me the building in which I would be sleeping. It had a tv and two mattresses low to the ground, with a private bathroom. It felt comfortable and cozy, and he allowed me to have it all to myself. The main home, just walking distance away, had a bedroom for his family's help, who was out of town that night. He chose to sleep there to give me privacy. Before falling asleep, he introduced me to Nicaragua's Tona beer, we talked and watched the stars and the moon, ending the night with therapeutic acro yoga.
I woke up in the morning to the Nicaraguan heat, the call of roosters and the pitter-patter of iguanas on the roof. I met with Anthony in the courtyard and saw the beauty of his property; with the well-groomed plush grass and the perfectly placed stepping stones and stone benches. He invited me into the main home where he offered me a traditional Nicaraguan breakfast that his mother had prepared a few days in advance using banana leaves, rice, beans, and spices. After enjoying our breakfast by the kitchen, we discussed taking a bus into town to tour his homeland. We explored the open market, I exchanged my money with a stranger on the street, saw iguanas for sale in the meat section and being cooked in soup, while stray dogs ran through the market like it was a maze. We took another bus to an open, outdoor museum of historic building replicas of Managua, some still remaining and some having been destroyed. We headed to a park called Puerto Salvador Allende and decided to do some acro yoga. We quickly drew a crowd. I think the locals thought we were street performers. When they pulled out their phones and cameras, I was tempted to ask them to send me their recordings. We wanted our final excursion to be at the local volcano, Volcan Masaya. We took the bus out of town to see the volcano but it was closed due to the volcano's live activity. Our final destination was the local mall. When I arrived in the afternoon I was able to finally pick up wifi. That is when I learned that my mother had been trying to contact me all day. She was worried about my arrival in Nicaragua and why I had not yet left to my volunteer site. I guess I had gotten so caught up with the vibrant local culture that I had forgotten to check in with my roots. We cleared things up and I quickly got on my way to my service sight, despite the fun I was having with my incredible host. He and I took a tuk-tuk to the local bus stop that would take me to the city of the site of my service. The last time I had taken a tuk-tuk was in Guatemala with my best friend Jianna, who had later named her kitten "Tuki" after the experience. I entered the van-bus with all of the belongings I had been carrying on my back. The fuller the van got, the more nervous I became of my valuables being out of sight in the trunk. I sat on a seat in the middle with my small daypack on the front of my belly. I stared out the windows admiring the views as we passed and I couldn't help but smile at the strangers around me. I was so happy to be in the moment that I forgot how foreign I had appeared in the situation. No one knows where anyone else was traveling but what I can be sure of is that it's was not the first time or the last time for anyone other than me. We all fall into the same pit of auto-pilot in our day to day lives, and this phenomenon is more commonly observed by a foreigner, or, as I've observed as a Couchsurfing host, a local in the presence of foreigners. I took the bus into the dark and landed at a gas station after, in a somewhat panicky way, with my broken Spanish, asking the van attendant to please remind me of my stop since I didn't have a clue where I was going. The gas station was a magical wifi hotspot and had open outlets for my phone charger. I was able to contact the owner and manager of the farm for which I was planning to volunteer. For moments, I looked around the station and, after every older looking man arrived, I wondered if he was the man I was looking for. Luckily, my man was driving a truck that had the name of the farm plastered on it when he pulled in to get gas. I came out to introduce myself and load my backpack. At this point, it was so dark outside he could've taken me anywhere and I wouldn't have known it was not the farm in the pictures. The road was a very long, dark, dirt path until I saw fences, horses, and cows. We stopped at a local supermarket before entering the farm and I didn't feel the need to buy anything quite yet. I had not yet known that I wouldn't have access to the supermarket for the next few days. I arrived at the farm and met a French volunteer who guided me to our volunteer quarters and bunk beds. I could not see her, nor the unlit path we were walking on. I had no idea where I was going. I was happy to feel a bed in front of me and I threw my bags to the ground and collapsed on the top bunk.
Day 3, March 27: Easter Sunday
After my late arrival last night, I met my fellow volunteer from France, Emilie in the light of the sun. She is fluent in French and Spanish and speaks English very well. She travels and volunteers abroad fairly often because it helps her improve her Spanish. The workers here do not speak English so I have to use what skills I have to communicate. They have pet macaws by the office that repeat what you say. I learned that parrot in Spanish is "loro" and bird in Spanish is "pajaro" which in my mind appear to be reversed. In the morning I came into the office to get sheets and pillow cases for my bed that I slept on bare the night before. The French volunteer divulged that a litter of kittens was discovered in the laundry room/pantry. It made me a little uneasy to think of a live kitten birth on my bed sheets, but what made me even more uneasy was the fact that she couldn't find the said kittens, and that she thought they may have died if someone had placed more laundry on top of them without realizing they were there. It was a shaky start.
Where I had slept the night prior, and for the next couple of nights, was a stilt house with multiple bunk beds and screened windows. It gave the feel of a treehouse. The bathrooms were outside a walking distance from the building. I needed my flashlight to get into the bathroom and navigate my way back at night. I received a tour of the kitchen in the morning- an open fire stove plus gas burning stove with a lighter on the other side of the room. I asked if they needed help and I was told that I only need to help when guests came. Since I had no work to do with no guests, I wandered around camp, mingled with a horse, journaled, read a book on a hammock, and received whistles through the barbed wire fence as I went for an afternoon run.
After a nap on the hammock, I was called to dinner with "the doctor is calling for you" shouted in Spanish. I didn't realize that the owner of the farm was called "the doctor" by his employees. Dinner my first night was paella with escargot, octopus, and fish. It was delicious and I felt guilty eating it after a day of no labor what-so-ever.
A few farm strays: Blanky, a white, Shepard dog, and Pinto, another Shepard dog but tied to a stake for "bad behavior".
Day 4, March 28
This morning I met Satu, a volunteer from Finland, who was returning from her travels after two days off. The 3 of us had gallo pinto (traditional rice and beans) for breakfast.
Our first job was to paint, or gloss, the railings and walls of the guest rooms. We enjoyed having conversations as we climbed the steps and varnished the railings. We talked to the local workers who treated this time as a break. It had been so long that I had spoken Spanish that I had accidentally answered the question "Do you have any children?" with "yes, one sister and two brothers."
When we finished the job for the day, the sticky varnish was impossible to get off of our hands. We were told to use gasoline to remove the varnish from the brushes. When we tried, the gasoline made it worse and I thought, now that my fingers are permanently sticky AND oily, I can't use my phone! And Satu thought, now that my hands are sticky AND oily I can't smoke my cigarette! Both of us empathized with each other's addiction. After that, we had lunch and I saw Kevin eating intestines with blood and pigskin. Kevin works on the farm full time but does not make much money. After lunch, we relaxed and since no one had work for us, I put my bathing suit on and went to the pool. They did not use chlorine or bleach, so the pool was loaded with bugs and algae. I chose to stay outside of the water and attempted to get a bit of a tan.
When we finished the job for the day, the sticky varnish was impossible to get off of our hands. We were told to use gasoline to remove the varnish from the brushes. When we tried, the gasoline made it worse and I thought, now that my fingers are permanently sticky AND oily, I can't use my phone! And Satu thought, now that my hands are sticky AND oily I can't smoke my cigarette! Both of us empathized with each other's addiction. After that, we had lunch and I saw Kevin eating intestines with blood and pigskin. Kevin works on the farm full time but does not make much money. After lunch, we relaxed and since no one had work for us, I put my bathing suit on and went to the pool. They did not use chlorine or bleach, so the pool was loaded with bugs and algae. I chose to stay outside of the water and attempted to get a bit of a tan.
Day 5, March 29
Last night I had a nightmare. I thought I saw a bird over my head. I screamed that there was a bird. Satu said, no, it's just a lizard. I was terrified and swear I saw it... but now I'm not so sure..
Guests from the Netherlands arrived and we planned a horseback riding trip. We were in awe of the friendly monkeys, one affectionately named Negrita, as we rode through a small town on the lake. We passed many friendly people and a small public school and finally trotted along the beach. When we returned to the farm Satu and I spoke to one of the women in the kitchen who appeared in distress. She had begun her menstruation but couldn't afford sanitary products. Satu and I gave her our clothes to change into, and enough sanitary products so she wouldn't have to leave early.
Day 6, March 30
Last day of volunteering. I woke up early to help in the kitchen. They needed to go into town to buy food for the kitchen so I hitched a ride. Chaparro, or Shorty, cat-called and beeped at all the girls on the way into town and Emilie called him out for it. He said he just wants to be friendly and greet them. She asked, "then why don't you greet the men?" He laughed but had no response. We went shopping and I finally bought some fruit and some cereal to share at the farm.
After eating breakfast I helped to clean the pool. We scrubbed the bottom and used a net to scoop a lot of the leaves out. My purpose at the farm was to teach yoga to the guests, but unfortunately, they did not have enough overnight guests at the time. So, I decided to listen to my friend from college's advice to contact someone he knows from Ometepe Island named Ryder. He happened to be coming into Granada for the two final days of my trip so I figured it was perfect timing to leave the farm and explore somewhere new. I tried to get a cab to pick me up at the farm but I had no luck because no one on the farm had money on their phones. So, this friend of a friend offered to get a cab to pick me up. I was sad to say goodbye to all of my new friends at the farm, but I was excited about the new adventure I would have. We arrived at Backyard Hostel and were greeted by many travelers. We went out to dinner on the main strip with a group of Germans. We enjoyed ceviche dinner as well as many local street performers.
For more information about the Backyard Hostel Click here (Backyard Hostel)
Day 7, March 31
Lazy day, slow to start moving. Ryder was going to get a new tattoo. We finally went to the tattoo parlor to see if they had time available. He was scheduled for the afternoon so we toured the town, climbed a terrifying bell tower with wet paint on the railings and explored every part of town we could think of in the time we had. After eating lunch I came back to the tattoo parlor to wait with Ryder for his appointment. There was only one tiny room at the tattoo parlor and more clients came in for tattoos and watched as Ryder got his. I headed back to the hostel and was locked out of my room so I took a break on the hammocks and chatted with some other travelers. I met an Australian who told me about his Treehouse hostel and bar in the woods so we arranged plans to take a truck to a tree house for the evening. When the truck arrived, people came from all over to meet at Backyard to climb into the small pickup truck. On the way up I crammed in the back seat while about a dozen people were in the bed of the truck. We drove down a long dark road into the woods. And when we arrived we had to hike into the woods and hold onto the tree railings to get to the top of the tree house. We listened to live performances from other travelers and the Australian owner as many people danced and socialized. There was a suspension bridge from one tree house to the next with open hammocks and beds for hostel guests. The night could not have been more beautiful.
Day 8, April 1
My last day. I walked around the market to get food with Ryder and our German friend Flo. We drank juice out of a bag and finally found a place to sit down. After many days of rice and beans and meat, all I wanted was a salad. The server looked at me like I was crazy and provided me with a plate of lettuce, onion, and a tomato.
I eventually had to sadly part ways with Ryder and Flo as they searched for the next bus out. I had the whole rest of the day ahead of me so I decided to explore and bought myself a hammock and some souvenirs for people who watched my dog while I was been gone. My final hours in Nicaragua were spent at the hostel chatting with new friends about travel plans and life goals.
"There are two ways to live; One as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as if everything is."- Albert Einstein.
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